Highway To Heaven
by everyone'ssister
Summary: The youngest Winchester gets a bug. Dean tries to help but gets too bored. Why is the TV in Sam's room again? (Warning!: there's absolutely no reason for this. It is literally meaningless fluff.)
1. Part 1

HIGHWAY TO HEAVEN

PART 1.

It's quiet in the bunker. Probably one of the things Sam loves most about his and Dean's home. The rest of the world wars life on in chaos and insanity but the tall, strong, grey walls of the bunker blocks all that out and leaves he and his brother safely detached from the people and the world they work so hard to protect.

The library, glowing with its muted warm lighting, is the heart of their sanctum. The dusty age of the books on the shelves lining the walls surrounds them in a smell and atmosphere that has long characterized their homes. The somewhat stability of Bobby's house, of always having a home to return to…now those same smells, the feeling of being free of judging eyes and minds, shaped the bunker made it safe and unconsciously reminded its owners of the surrogate father they'd been blessed with and continued to bless them with his protection and love.

As far as evil things that go bump in the night goes it had been a much appreciated dry spell. Sam and Dean have been sitting pretty on their asses for nearly five days and Sam had finally had to give up and leave their safe house for supplies. Dean had hunkered down on the younger Winchester's bed binge watching 'Highway To Heaven' on Netflix, an old show about an angel on earth helping people that made Sam want throw up in his mouth a little but for some reason Dean found it highly amusing.

He'd left his brother chewing away on beef jerky Dean had taken out of the impala's emergency stash…that was when Sam knew grocery shopping was being left up to him. He'd told Dean he'd be back in an hour or two jiggling the impala's keys trying to bait his brother into joining him on his outing; all he got as a response was a grunt.

Sam rolls his eyes fondly and leaves. And that's how he finds himself standing in the produce in Food Lion feeling up the mangos to find the right one, firm but soft. A mother with her little daughter walk up beside him sniffling and sneezing, coughing into their hands, eyeing Sam with bloodshot watering eyes.

He lets out a strained grin and shuffles away as fast as he can, Sam finishes up grabbing his and Dean essentials as quickly as possible as a few more rather green looking people pass him. He grits his teeth back in the impala as he listens to the local radio sending out a warning about a spike in flu patients in the surround clinics and hospitals.

Just his fricking luck.

Dean would have scoffed at the lame picture he makes chugging on Apple Cider Vinegar in a whiskey glass as he puts his shopping away in the kitchen. The skin of his hands is pink and nearly raw as he scrubs them clean hoping to get rid of all the germs. He heads to his room shaking the protein coffee drink up he'd bought for Dean.

He pushes his door the rest of the way open and Dean eyes barely raise to glance at him before going back to their hooded state staring at the bright flashing of the TV. Sam smirks at the nearly unconscious state his older brother has put himself in and sinks to his bed with a sigh, leaning up against the headboard.

"Here." He says passing Dean the bottled drink. "Caffeine, protein…we need to get you operating again."

Dean lazily rolls his eyes but takes the offering, cracks open the bottle and takes a deep drink. He smirks as he sighs and burps contentedly after his long gulp, "There's lots of protein in jerky." He mumbles as he pulls the blankets further up his chest shivering with the chill Sam brought in with him.

Sam raises an eyebrow and whines, "I got the groceries…" Dean looks surprised. "Why are you hibernating in my room?"

"Cuz the TV's in here." Dean answers, again nearly under his breath.

"I hate this show." Sam sighs petulantly, and slumps further down on his mattress tugging the blanket towards himself a little…Dean lets him.

"I know." Dean grins widely, childishly, and Sam groans knowing he's just doomed himself to watching the show indefinitely.

"I was gonna cook." Sam says after a few minutes of silence, Dean thoroughly entranced in the television, Sam bored to the point of ( _gasp)_ cooking.

Dean snorts at that, "Oh he's gonna cook now." Still surprised that Sam managed to go get the groceries and get back alive and sane.

Sam throws a hand over to slap Dean hard on the stomach, "Shut up."

Dean grunts with the impact. "When was the last time you really cooked, Sammy?" He asks, with a know it all arched brow.

Sam bristles.

"Can't be that much different from chem lab."

The uproarious laughter from Dean even makes Sam crack and laugh along with him.

"If you step a foot in my kitchen to do more than make Ramen…I will cut your hands off." Dean says drily, eyes back on the TV screen but his voice is dead serious and Sam's shoulders slump.

"Deeeaaaann, l'm hungry." He pouts, flops completely down on the mattress face close to his brother's slightly elevated shoulder.

"After this episode Sammy, promise I'll make something." Dean mumbles, not looking away from the television and Sam sighs, having to be happy with that compromise. The darkness of his room and blurry sound and movements of the TV lulls Sam towards darkness. He falls to sleep breathing in Dean and laundry soap scented air. Rest descending on him heavy and soft, floating in feathery warmth and safety.

…

Sam wakes up face flat on his mattress, and the silence of a dark TV and an empty spot beside him where his brother had been parked for quite a while. He grimaces as lifts his head and feels the wetness of droll against his mouth and cheek.

Gross.

But god, what a good sleep!

He pushes up on his elbows and groans, the back of his neck aching, in fact, he frowns as he registers most of his body aching. He's shivering a little, hands feeling freezing and as they rub down his face in a dry scrub the heat wafting off it feels disturbingly hot. He groans, flipping on his back he squeezes his eyes closed against the dizziness overwhelming him. His stomach roiling precariously.

He can't tell if it's nausea or hunger since he'd bee waiting for Dean to fix him something. He laughs at himself. He's such a child, he's such a pushover for Dean. He stands and makes his way groggily to the kitchen one hand shielding his eyes from the painful light.

Dean looks up with a grin that fades as Sam stumbles through the door and down the stairs.

"Dude." He states, a worried crease coming to adorn that space between his eyebrows.

Sam rubs fingers through his hair and flattens it down, he puts a hand down on the table to support his knees and he sits slowly. Dean comes to stand beside him a hand on his shoulder, he looks shocked at the heat radiating through Sam's long sleeved t–shirt.

"You're not hurt are you?" He asks, bending to catch Sam's eye.

Sam shakes his head. And Dean's frown deepens, "If you were that hungry you shoulda said, lemme get you some spaghetti."

"Spaghetti?" Sam asks despairingly, as his stomach gurgles with just the thought.

"Yep." Dean says, letting the 'p' pop, "That's what I made."

He watches warily as Dean plates up a giant serving of noodles and sauce, his older brother sets it in front of him with silverware and a piece of garlic bread. The smell of garlic is the last blow. He groans, shutting his eyes as he shakes his and rests it in his hands. Dean stands before him with hands on his hips expectantly, waiting for Sam to dig in.

"Dean, I think I'm sick..."

His stomach leaps and the cramps force him to lean over towards the side, away from the plate of food and nauseating smell. Dean jumps back quickly as the contents of Sam's stomach splatter to the kitchen floor.

"No shit."

…tbc

If this makes you smile…REVIEW!? ;);)


	2. Part 2

Part 2.

Dean holds up his hands in shock, blinking at the mess on the floor. "Woah."

Sam groans, pressing his forehead into his arm which is resting on the table. "Sorry Dean." He says, peering up at him blearily. Gags as he catches the scent of the spaghetti again.

"Okay, let's move that." Dean says grabbing the plate of food and setting in on the kitchen island.

Sam grunts under his breath, letting his face fall into his hands.

"Alright, alright." Dean says, grabbing a roll of paper towels, "Its alright. You go grab a shower and I'll clean this up and bring you something a little easier."

He holds Sam by the elbow as he stands and Sam sends him a wobbly smile as he uses the wall to support him to his bedroom. He grabs some sweats and lets the steaming hot water pelt into his aching body. God, he hasn't felt this sick in a while. He hates the way he switches from hot to cold with ever new draft of air wafting over his skin.

He makes record time in the shower, struggling into his pants sitting on his bed. He flops over on his side with a thoughtless moan of pain, but also relief. He struggles to pull his blankets over his shivering form and finally sighs with relief as his body completely relaxes. Even though the aches don't disappear and his blood thunders behind his eyes, heart beat cruelly loud in his temples.

There's a soft knock on his door frame and he opens his heavy eyes to acknowledge Dean's presence. His older brother enters softly with a small plate and a glass in his hands. Sam feels the color draining from his face with just the sight of the plain piece of toasted bread. He whines objectively into his pillow as he hides his face in its soft depths.

Dean frowns; Sam can feel it leveled on the back of his head.

"Sammy, c'mon." He says softly, a hand on Sam's back rubbing gently. "Gotta at least try."

Sam sends Dean the sourest glare he can muster and slowly turns over on his back, clumsily grabbing the piece of toast from the plate. He chews stoically on three bites before he nearly vomits again on the last swallow. He practically throws the half eaten piece of bread back on the plate.

"Can't do anymore." He moans to Dean, looking to his big brother though swimming vision, and he watches as Dean's hand comes towards him slowly, so as not to startle him, and feels his forehead, fingers light and cool deciding his temperature. Sam watches his frown deepen some more in between his eyebrows and giggles at the way it looks through his dizziness.

Dean sends him a fond, worried smile. "What you laughing about over there Samantha, care to share?"

"Caring is sharing…sharing is caring…" Sam giggles again, and Dean's smile goes a little deeper at that and makes Sam notice the crows feet beside his eyes, and the laugh lines that no longer went away when he stopped smiling.

"Just…" Sam says a little breathlessly, getting comfortable again. "That frown is giving you the Grand Canyon of wrinkles."

Dean looks affronted and huffs, "Well yeah, who's fault is that lil bro?"

Sam chuckles softly at that and lets his eyes stay shut hoping Dean will leave him to sleep now. No such luck. He feels Dean nudging at him.

"Here, drink this real fast before you go to sleep," he presses and Sam takes the glass without protest and without opening his eyes because, Jesus, what a head ache.

He throws it back in one swallow to get it over with and nearly chokes with the dark fire sizzling down his throat and the warmth spreading through his chest and stomach. He coughs while his eyes water as an unconcerned Dean takes the glass from his hand.

"Whiskey Dean? Really?" His bed creaks as Dean rises and he can hear the shrug in his brother's words.

"It'll settle your stomach Sammy, and put you to sleep…no better sedative." And he can hear the smirk there too. Bastard…wait till he gets this bug. And oh he would…Dean always got whatever Sam did.

Sam drifts in and out of consciousness. Dean leaves and returns and when his brother pads back through the door in his socked feet, Sam feels the bed dip beside him and he slips back into a real sleep. Dean's soothing presence the last thing needed to invite healing ignorance.

…

He feels consciousness returning to him what feels like a couple of hours later. He feels his eyelashes flicker on his cheeks and feels his eyes protest to being opened. His head is no better, but his stomach is calmer and he opens his eyes to find his room dark except for the light of the TV. The safe warmth is still there, a slight weight against him and he finds Dean leaning up against his headboard eyes fixed on the screen.

The sound is turned down but it takes Sam about five seconds to realize what's on. That damned show. Dean looks down at him as he hides his face in his pillows and Dean chuckles quietly, Sam feels gentle fingers in his hair and he sighs with the calloused tips on his aching scalp.

"How ya feeling, Sammy?"

Sam is loathe to answer, to open his mouth and actually utilize muscles and bones all of which ache like he's been hit by fifty trucks. He wonders if he could just drift back off to sleep, or if Dean already recognized the signs that he was awake.

"Yep, I know you're awake."

Shit, did he say that out loud? He must be really bad off.

"Yeah, your fever's up." Shit, he must have said that out loud too. Dean laughs above him. "You might wanna get up and drink some water? I'll get you some." He says without waiting for an answer so Sam flips over onto his back as Dean goes into his bathroom for some.

"Here." Dean prompts, a hand on his younger brother's shoulder and Sam pushes himself a little further up his pillows and takes the cup from Dean, gulping down the cool liquid.

"How you feeling?" He asks, putting his legs back up onto the bed and pulling the blanket back up his body.

"Dean." Sam says hoarsely, as his brother takes the cup and turns to set it on the bedside table, he lets his head fall to Dean's shoulder. "I think I'm dying."

He feels the deep deep rumble of Dean's fond laugh and it makes him feel just a hair better. "You're gonna be okay, Sammy." The words are smeared into his forehead as Dean turns the tv back on, fingers at the base of his skull in the soft hair there massaging and damn, Dean knows just how to make him feel better.

It makes him think blearily back to the days eaten up with his headaches and visions, Dean always there and comforting, a strong bulwark of comfort even when he himself was scared. He smiles at that as the sounds from the tv break into his thoughts and he finds himself frowning again the exertion making his head throb.

"Just relax and watch tv until you drift off again." Dean urges softly, shoulder going still and soft underneath Sam as he relaxes himself.

"I hate this show." Sam mumbles obstinately, but Dean grins with the sleepiness already in his tone.

"I know." He assures, and pulls the blanket farther up Sam and then himself so as to disguise the tender action.

"It's stupid and lame."

Dean nods but doesn't turn it off, doesn't change it. Sam sighs and lifts the heel of one hand to press into the eye not hidden against Dean's shoulder. His older brother reaches for it and pulls it down gently.

"Sam…." He says gently. And it's that indisputable big brother tone. "Sleep."

"If you want me to sleep so bad turn the damn tv off." Sam mumbles.

"If you want it quiet so bad shut up." Dean responds, without blinking an eye. Knowing the tv and it's lights and noises put Sam to sleep like nothing else. The tv and the impala; both had worked like magic his whole life, even since he was a motherless baby. With that thought he presses his cheek to Sam's head laying on his shoulder. And even though there's that unnatural heat radiating off it Dean is comforted by the familiarity and the closeness of baby brother. Knows even though he's sick, they're going to be okay.

And even though Sam bitches about the tv Dean doesn't miss the words smeared sleepily into his shirt by hot dry lips on a sigh of breath…

"Stay."

…tbc

:)))):):)::):):)::):):))))):):):):):)))) THANK YOU GOD FOR THIS HAPPINESS! REVIEW!?


	3. Part 3

Part 3.

It's after midnight and Sam's been drowsing lightly for the last hour. He's seen more of Dean's tv show 'Highway To Heaven' then he ever wanted to between naps over the remainder of the day. Dean is still in his laid back position, still lazily watching the crappy 80's show with Sam sprawled out beside him on his stomach, face buried in the mattress.

He groans and Dean shifts, he feels his brother's eyes on him and he turns to meet his eyes as mush as he can from his stomach. Dean presses the back knuckles of a few fingers to Sam's forehead and smiles sleepily. Same hand lands on Sam's head and pats gently before brushing a few wild strands of soft brunette hair out of the way.

"Fever's broke." He says softly, and Sam grunts in agreement his body feeling absolutely drained and weak…but most of the discomfort is gone. His head is still searing through his eyes with pain but it's better than before. "You're getting better." Dean says, settling further down on his pillows and eyes going back to the tv and Sam inwardly groans.

"It's a wonder." He snarks hoarsely. And Dean looks at him with a questioning brow raised. "This show could take out a navy marine, special ops…you name it…"

"C'mon Sammy." Dean says, voice already softer, eyes lowering towards sleeping. "It's not that bad, I like it." _I like it_ …like that makes it indisputably the best show ever, Sam rolls his eyes. Winces, and stops because…ouch.

"Just go to sleep." Dean tells him AGAIN and Sam sighs huffily and prays the next time he wakes up he's better because he can't take much more of 'Highway To Heaven'. Why was the tv in his room again?

…

Sam wakes to a smothering heat. He groans as he opens his eyes and the light of tv hits him hard. He blinks pleasantly surprised though…head ache much better. That damned show is still playing away but Dean is out for the count…on top of Sam.

He's on his stomach, his head on Sam's shoulder, drooling onto his shirt and his arm thrown across his little brother's stomach. And god, hot. Dean's burning up, his skin nearly sizzling, so Sam suppresses his smirk of vengeance as Dean whines with Sam's movements as the younger Winchester moves to get up. Nature calls.

"Gotta get up De," he says softly, gently sliding Dean off him, "Be back."

Dean groans and turns over onto his back, his arm over his eyes. "Sammy," he slurs, "I think I'm dying."

"I feel ya bro, I really do." Sam says softly as he walks into the bathroom, mindful of his older sibling's probable headache. He returns with aspirin and a glass of water and pushes Dean in the general direction of up as his brother clumsily grabs the small pill and puts in his mouth. Sam holds the cup and Dean sighs, falling back towards the pillows after a long drink.

"Better?" Sam asks.

"Better." Dean assures, words lazy in his mouth and Sam smiles as he pulls the blanket farther up his older brother's body.

"You interested in any breakfast?" He questions, pulling on a shirt about to head to the kitchen. Dean merely groans from the heap of blankets and pillows and Sam chuckles. "Okay okay, be back soon."

Sam comes back fifteen minutes later with a cup of coffee in one hand and a pack of crackers in the other. He eases onto the mattress but Dean still stirs, Sam can see his nose twitching like a rabbit at the aroma of fresh coffee. He snickers as his sibling's emerald eyes slit open, to find the source of the heavenly smell.

"Forget it," he says, "No coffee for you, you gotta sleep this off. But I did grab you some crackers, that'll be easier on your stomach."

Dean slowly reaches for the crackers and then with surprising quickness throws them to the foot of the bed. Sam simply laughs, long used to his brother's antics when sick, especially with a fever. Dean relaxes further into the bed and sighs, closing his eyes with that little frown between his eyebrows.

"Turn on the tv will ya?" He asks softly. And Sam complies…because, well you're nice to people when they're sick, it's just a rule.

The tv comes to life and there set and ready to go on Netflix is 'Highway To Heaven'. Sam groans and Dean shifts a little, Sam still catches the tired smirk on his lips though.

"What are you waiting for?" Dean asks whining. And Sam sighs heavy and resigned, as he presses play on an episode.

Dean asleep within minutes.

Sam gently moves to grab the remote, and pauses the show. Dean immediately rouses and Sam freezes. His older sibling reaches up and scratches a hand through his hair, wipes his nose like a giant child…

"Sammy…" he mumbles, still mostly asleep, "Turn it back on."

Sam wants to scratch his eyes out. He figures he'll just have to leave the room, he can't imagine staying in the same room as that show the whole time Dean is sick. He lets Dean settle again and then he starts to ease himself from the mattress.

"Would you get comfy?" Dean asks, slurring. "All your twitching is keeping me awake…" he rolls over closer and an arm falls over Sam's stomach effectively trapping him, Dean's hot forehead pressed into the outside of his bicep.

"I was gonna just…" _go_ that's what he was about to say. And that's why he almost missed it. The word that never ceased to warm his heart like a furnace. The word that underlined their whole lives, smeared into his arm, sighed out to him on a sleepy breath as the arm around his middle tightened.

"Stay."

the end.

Okay that was absolute mush…just as warned lol. Hope you guys liked! ;);) REVIEW!?


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